


Numbers Off By Heart

by nerdyydragon



Series: Kingsman Tumblr Ficlets [73]
Category: Kingsman (2014), Kingsman (2015), Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Gen, Harry Hart is Dead, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, One-Sided Relationship, Pining, the relationship tag is loose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 16:31:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8899531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdyydragon/pseuds/nerdyydragon
Summary: Eggsy had never properly mourned Harry. He had never really accepted that the man was dead - in his mind he nursed the possibility that, like everything else that happened around him, Harry Hart could defy logic and do the impossible: he could cheat death.But the days ticked on, and nothing changed. (tw: Eggsy's drinking and unhealthy habits are only mentioned in the beginning, and it picks up right after he finishes drinking for the night)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer*

Eggsy was sprawled out on his floor, completely exhausted and more than a little bit drunk. It had been a long day (hell, it had been a long  _ year _ ), and life was starting to get to him. It had happened slowly, this spiral he had somehow slipped into; the late nights and overwork, the drinking, the self-destruction. He was barely holding it together. Nobody talked about why. They all knew that if he was going to go to counselling he would have to do it on his own, and their subtle hints and gentle prodding could only do so much. Push too hard and he would dig his heels in, just to be contrary.

Polishing off the last of his bottle, he stood it carefully on the coffee-table next to him and then used the wood to pull himself up, somehow staggering to the couch and sitting down. He looked blankly at the screen of his phone, reading the time at quarter past twelve in the morning, then opened it to the home screen and went into his recent calls. There were at least a dozen outgoing, all to the same number, but they never lasted long. The longest clocked in at forty five seconds, and that was only because it had rung for so long that he knew nobody was going to answer it. He dialled the number again from memory. It rang three times, and then it went silent on the other line, which was new. Eggsy didn’t know if anyone was listening on the other end, so he started talking.

“I know you can’t hear me, wherever you are. Or maybe you can, fuck if I know. But that’s okay, I s'pose. 

“Because the world’s still a shitty, fucked up, dying hellhole and people are equally shitty and fucked up, even if it’s better now that it was. But you were my kind of fucked up, and for what it’s worth, I would have been willing to spend what I have with you.” Eggsy was secretly glad that Harry wasn’t around to deal with the fallout, though he would have appreciated the firm shoulder to lean on.

“I’m just sorry I didn’t get to tell you properly, Harry. I’m just so, so sorry.

“God,  _ fuck _ , why did you have to go?

“I’m going to try and fix this - be the person you wanted me to be. Make the world a better place, ‘cause that’s what you would have wanted me to do.

“I just   -  .” Eggsy cut himself off, choking on the words he wanted to say and mulling them over for a moment. He still hadn’t been interrupted. Maybe there  _ was  _ someone on the other end listening to him. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not gonna say goodbye - because that makes it real and if it’s real then I’ll break and I can’t do that, not to my mum, not to the agency. But I will say _ see you then _ , because I guess I will. Maybe. I hope. I’ll be expecting you outside the gates to take me where I need to go. Don’t disappoint - you haven’t yet and it would be a shame to break that record.” Eggsy chuckled at the nostalgia of it all, if you could even call it that. Harry  _ did  _ have a long history of keeping promises, and the thought of him waiting for Eggsy to show up again was almost comical. He would have given it a real laugh if he wasn’t  desperately trying not to cry.

“Goodbye, Harry. I miss you. And wherever you are I hope that you’re happy - or at least content raising hell. Say hey to my da for me, if you bump into him. Let him know I’m doing alright. That we love him. And that we don’t blame him for what happened. I don’t blame you either, for the record, but you probably knew that. At least, I hope you did. 

“So, this is it then, I s'pose. Where we leave things. But before I go, I should probably tell you that the time we spent together, I’ll always remember that. You changed my life, for the better, and I’ll never regret meeting you. Even if I’m going to walk around with half a vital organ for the rest of my life. Don’t really feel like it’s beating no more, not without you, anyway.

I love you.” Eggsy waited for the span of three breaths before there was a click on the other end.

“ _ We’re sorry, the number you’re trying to reach has been disconnected. _ ”

It was an automated voice, the kind you get when somebody changes their phone number and doesn’t tell you, and then you try to call them. Not even bothering to try and end the call, Eggsy let the phone fall from his hand and thud dully onto the rug under his feet. The time told him he had been on the phone for almost fifteen minutes, not that it mattered. There wasn’t anyone for him to be talking to. 

Hot tears poured down his face and dripped through his fingers and he put his head in his hands, and then gripped his hair so tight he was afraid he may actually pull some of it out. Perhaps it would have been nice, to feel something. Ever since Harry’s mission to Kentucky Eggsy had been walking around in a sort of numb fog, functioning and performing well but inside feeling so much pain that it overloaded him; his body couldn’t handle it. What he was feeling now was only a fraction of that, even though it seemed like there was a knife stuck right into what was left of his bleeding heart. He tucked himself up on the couch in a tight ball, one hand clutching his ribcage and the other wrapped around his knees, and sobbed. He cried until he couldn’t cry anymore, until he had made a stream in the leather of the couch, and there was nothing left but dry huffing in an attempt to get air into his lungs. The reality of Harry’s demise was hitting him in full force.

Harry Hart was gone. 

And he wasn’t coming back.


End file.
